Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [27]
"Have ye ever seen a living beast like this before?" the old wizard asked again, sharply. The smaller dragon-head turned this way and that, displaying itself to her as a gown-merchant's model might have done… then sighed back down into the mists and was gone.
"N-no," Narnra managed to say, suspicion suddenly welling up dark, hot, and choking. Was this old brute…?
The mage pounced. "But?"
"But nothing," she flared, eyes blazing down at him.
"Truth,lass! Ye lie as badly as a wrinkled rug! Tell me truth!"
"I… Mother's apprentices used to tell me about dragons. That was a dragon, wasn't it?"
"How many apprentices?" the old wizard snapped. "Their names?"
"Uh, five, most of the time. Goraun, Rivrel, Jonczer, and the two younger ones, Tantheld and Silen-Rorgel, who was called 'Silent' because he almost never spoke. They… Rivrel's dead; knifed by someone taking things from the shop after Mother died. I think Jonczer was killed too, but I saw only a lot of blood, not his body. The others… disappeared. They may be dead, they may've stolen things and fled; I know not."
"Did ye ever see any of them work magic?"
"No."
"What exactly did they tell ye about dragons?"
Narnra glared at the old wizard, her suspicions even stronger now. "When they'd been drinking," she said heavily, "they'd grumble about the dirtier tasks, then wish they were rich bold adventurers and start telling tales of adventurers. Some of them had dragons in them… that ate folk, tore apart castles, and smashed villages flat-I'm sure you've heard better. Later, they'd always warn me I shouldn't mention anything they said to Mother."
"And did ye?"
"Did I what?"
"Ever talk about dragons, with her?"
"No. Look, sir wizard, she's dead. Now I've told you my name, I've told you hers, I've even babbled the names of five apprentice gemcutters-and your name remains a mystery to me. So what is it?"
"Elminster Aumar, though most folk know me better as 'Elmin-ster of Shadowdale.' I'm also called the Old Mage, the Old Sage, and a lot of less polite names and titles, besides. Wiser now?"
"I've heard of Elminster the Great, the Meddler of Mystra, who did things in Waterdeep centuries ago. I guess you're named after him."
"Ye could say that, yes." The old wizard smiled thinly. "Now that we know each other somewhat better, lass, suppose ye set aside thy fury and tell me true: are ye beholden to anyone? Working with anyone? Spying for anyone? Hired out to do any task?"
"No," Narnra replied, anger flaring again. "No, no, and no again!" So he believed nothing of what she'd said, did he?
"Can't you tell truth when you hear it? Or d'ye not want to hear words that don't fit with how you've already judged me? You didn't show yon Red Wizard much kindness!"
"He deserves none, believe me."
"Hah!" Narnra snarled down from where the mists held her. "What if I don't believe you? Why should I? You slyly hint that I lie, and that you know a lot more about my mother than I do, and that wizards must do what wizards must do. Well, as to that, all I see and hear is that wizards do just as they please and cloak self-interest in a lot of grand words and hints that they're doing things important that protect all Faerun and all of us with it! Yet do they show any proof of this?"
The smile stealing onto the Old Mage's face seemed a little sad around the edges. "What proof would ye believe, Narnra?"
"I… I…"
Elminster spread his hands. "Ye see? Rage ye have to spare, and no wonder, for I've endangered ye and scared ye, and my power lies as sharp as any blade between us. Furious ye are that I trust thee not-yet do ye trust me?"
Narnra stared down at him. "No," she whispered. "Not yet."
"Ah. Ye want to. So do I, thee. So how can we build trust between us?"
The thief floating in the mists frowned then said, "Why don't you tell me some answers